


In Your Backyard

by Draco_sollicitus



Series: Short but Sometimes Sweet: Damerey Collection [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: "This Man Keeps Stealing My Flowers But He's Cute So I'll Allow It" AU, F/M, Fluff, If that's even an AU, Modern AU, POV Rey, Poe is an ex pilot, Reference to Canon Death, Rey is a gardener, Some light/to be expected angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: Rey's just trying to enjoy her Sunday when she spies a good-looking man stealing flowers from her garden.She figures it's a one time thing, but he keeps coming back each week to steal the same, relatively inexpensive flowers. When she finally corners him, she demands he take her to meet the woman he's been stealing flowers for.Rey's about to find out that her flower thief is full of surprises.





	In Your Backyard

**Author's Note:**

> From a tumblr prompt I found through the generosity of supremequeenofthenerds and her lovely tumblr prompt collection!! 
> 
>  
> 
> PS Expect a massive swerve in this storyline. Reference to Canon Death. Starts out fluffy, but a little bit sad at the end (happy ending, though)

The first time the flower thief comes by, Rey’s sitting on her screened-in back porch, drinking tea, doing the crossword, and minding her own business, thank you very much. It’s a Sunday, and she wants to relax.

She hears a rustling out along the back side of her garden and she shrugs, figuring it’s a rabbit, or some other pest that she can’t really think of as a pest ( _damn those anthropomorphized Disney cartoons she’d consumed like candy as a kid at Uncle Ben’s house_ ).

But then, Rey hears a curse word; and, bunny rabbits definitely do not swear. At least, none of the ones she’s ever met. Rey looks out through the screen, ducking around the large succulent she’s sitting behind, and she sees him.

The Flower Thief.

Okay, so he’s hot. He’s definitely hot. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and his shirt has the top three buttons unbuttoned, and he may not be a Disney animated creature, but he could very well be a Disney animated prince with that _hair_ and that _jawline._

Rey’s so busy checking him out, most likely with her mouth open and drool falling out, she figures it’s Even Stevens when he successfully plucks a handful of larkspur, and a handful of wild daisies.

Weird. You’d think a flower thief would go for the orchids, or the roses, or something else expensive. He doesn’t even take that many of the flowers he’d chosen to steal.

“Sorry,” he whispers into the garden. “It’s for a special lady.”

Oh. Oh, the hot Disney Flower Thief is going on a date. That’s cute. He must have forgotten to buy flowers. Rey snorts and then goes back to her crossword, figuring that’s the last she’ll see of the Flower Thief.

***

Next Sunday, Rey’s dancing around her kitchen to an old Bruce Springsteen song, the yowling alley cat she’d “rescued” some years prior (okay, okay, so she set a small trap out for it with tuna fish because she’s a little lonely sometimes, go figure) trapped in her arms.

Niney (named for his lives, of course), was more than a little disgruntled at first in the change of his living situation; but after several gaping wounds in Rey’s arms, caused by his claws, he’d seemed mollified by the blood sacrifice, and they’ve grown to live in peace.

Bruce is just starting to sing about small town girls on the back of motorcycles, and Niney’s still squirming to get out of her grip, when she sees him through the window – the thief has returned.

Rey drops Niney without thinking, and he’s a black streak hurtling out towards the living room. Rey smirks, hands on her hips, and walks out to the porch door. She leans in the doorframe – can he really not see her? – and watches as, just like the previous week, he takes larkspur and daisies from the section nearest the back wall.

And, just like last time, he mouths “Sorry,” at the garden, and then, endearingly, does a little half-bow, his dark brown curls brushing against the fencepost.

When he straightens up, a blush on his tan cheeks, he collects the flowers carefully in a purposeful arrangement – and it could do with a pop of yellow, Rey muses, he should really take some daffodils, next time – and walks in the same direction as last time.

“The nerve of some people,” Rey says, shaking her head but grinning all the same.

When she stops by the garden store on Monday afternoon on her way home from work, right after stopping for ice and a bottle of wine – she loves being a PE teacher for elementary schoolers, but damn if that lil’ Rickie Thompson didn’t nail her in the head with a softball on purpose today – she picks up extra packets of larkspur and daisies.

You know. Supply and demand, after all.

***

The Flower Thief who’s really bad at thieving comes by the consecutive three Sundays, and Rey does increasingly bold things, both to mess with him, and help him.

Once, she rattles something loudly in the kitchen with the window open; she tries not to take vindictive pleasure in the way his head snaps up, and looks around guiltily. Tries. Fails, but tries. He still leaves with his flowers, so she figures it’s fine.

Another time, she notices a small wasp’s nest growing on the underside of the fence, near where Mr. Handsome Flower Thief always leans. She tells herself it’s for her garden when she undertakes the risky move of picking up the wasp nest and disposing of it somewhere safe and far away. This is for her plants, and her own safety. Not cute men who are picking flowers for other people.

Five Sundays into their strange arrangement, on a truly boiling hot day, she leaves out a cool bottle of water for the Flower Thief. He’s wiping his brow when he shows up, still in that ridiculous (okay, ridiculously attractive) leather jacket, and she likes to think he whimpers when he sees the bottle of water.

Rey grins evilly to herself as she watches his moral dilemma.

“Come on,” she mutters, staring out the window. “You already steal twenty dollars-worth of flowers each week, what’s a twenty-five cent bottle of water?”

She pumps her fist in the air when he takes it; it only occurs to her after he left that she’s being massively creepy, and she probably could have just walked out and offered him the water, or even the lemonade.

And then it occurs to her that not only does the Flower Thief seem to know nothing about flowers – he also seems to have no self-preservation. Why on earth did he trust a random bottle of water? She could have poisoned him.

***

Rey’s still fuming the next Sunday when he shows up, and this time, she’s kneeling in her garden, ‘working.’

There’s the distinctive sound of footsteps, and Rey smirks to herself, digging around in the base of a bush. Sure enough, she sees a pair of hands emerge (she picked this spot on purpose, to be in clear sight of the larkspur, where she’d be hidden if you weren’t looking for her), and start rustling around.

“You know,” Rey says conversationally, enjoying _way too much_ the squeak of terror from the man, “If you need flowers for a date, there’s a very nice florist up on Elm and Fifth.”

“Uh,” Rey looks up, grinning, at the Flower Thief, who is a very enjoyable shade of red. “Uh, oh my god, I’m sorry, please don’t call the cops.”

Rey stabs her trowel down into the earth and stands up, brushing the dirt off her hands onto her old jeans. “No, no,” Rey shakes her head. “If I were to call the cops for any reason, it’d be to report how stupid it is to just take a bottle of water with no questions asked.”

“What?” The man blinks at her, stupefied.

“I’m Rey, by the way,” she holds out her (God, it’s so dirty) hand, and he takes it, blinking still.

“Poe,” he says weakly. “I’m Poe Dameron.”

“Nifty,” Rey nods, glad to have a name for the thief now. “Anyway, Mr. Dameron, what the heck were you thinking? I could have poisoned that water, or drugged it, and you just took it?”

“I mean, did you?” He looks at her quizzically, and now is not the time to be distracted by how nice his voice is, somehow smooth and rough at the same time, making her shiver in the eighty degree weather.

“No!” Rey protests, irritated at the implication. “Of course not, God, what a thing to think.”

Poe folds his arms in front of him and rests on the top of the fence, grinning at her mischievously. The wind blows a few of his curls into his face, and Rey’s fingers twitch from the urge to tuck them back into place. “Oh yeah, only a real monster would think about someone tainting a bottle of water.” Rey rolls her eyes, regretting that she’d left her rake up against the house. She could be smacking him with it right now.

“So, Mr. Dameron,” Rey grins at him, “aren’t you going to take your flowers? Larkspur and daises, right?”

“You knew,” Poe buries his face in his hands, elbows still on the fence. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, they’re just so pretty, and I can’t find larkspur anywhere, and—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rey shrugs. “I’m sure it’s for a very special lady.” She definitely, on purpose, uses his phrasing from the first time she spotted him, and she grins internally at the mortification on his face.

Still, Poe Dameron, Flower Thief, is obviously a bold man, so he shrugs and says, “Yeah, yeah she is.”

“Okay.” Rey nods, cheerfully. “Okay, take your flowers, and then take me with you.”

“What?” Poe looks beyond stupefied, now. “What do you mean, take you with me?”

“Take me with you to meet this special lady that has you risking fines and maybe even jail time for a ridiculous flaunting of trespassing and property laws,” Rey says cheerfully, picking up her ragged old button down and pulling it on over her filthy tank top. “Let’s go!”

Poe’s ears and neck are flushed fully red when he starts to take his weekly flowers, and Rey leans against the fence, drinking it all in.

God, this is a good day.

“Oh, wait, here,” Rey walks to a further corner of the garden and grabs some daffodils. “You really need some yellow in that arrangement.”

“Oh,” Poe says, blinking again. “Thank you?”

“Mhm!” Rey opens the gate of her fence and skips out. She adjusts one of her buns, and beams at Poe. “Lead the way, Flower Thief!”

“Uh,” Poe shuffles his feet, awkwardly. “Okay.”

They walk in companionable silence – really, one of the better citizen arrests of all time, Rey thinks to herself cheerfully – through the lanes behind the rows of houses.

“What’s this girl like?” Rey asks, for something to say.

“She’s perfect,” Poe shrugs, looking awkward. “Love her a lot.”

“That’s sweet,” Rey jostles his shoulder with her own. “That’s really sweet. So, Poe, what do you do when you’re not stealing from my garden?”

“Calm down, Farmer McGregor,” Poe says, smirking at her. And _oh, Oh, he’s so cute that isn’t fair._ “I’m a pilot. Well, was a pilot. Left the Air Force about a year ago, with a bum knee.”

“Oh,” Rey frowns. He is limping, a little bit. “Thank you for your service, Poe.” He smiles at her, endearing crinkles forming at the corner of his brown eyes. “I guess it’s okay if you’re stealing flowers,” she sighs, heavily. “I can’t even get mad at you.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you’re a veteran with a romantic streak,” Rey huffs. “Like, who could get mad at you? Jesus. Not fair.”

“A romantic streak?” Poe frowns, slightly, and then turns right. That’s weird, they’re walking away from town.

“Yeah, a romantic streak,” Rey nods. Maybe he’s meeting his girlfriend at the park. “Stealing flowers from a poor teacher’s garden for your special lady.”

“You’re a teacher?” Poe asks, grinning. “What subject?”

“Physical education,” Rey answers, smiling as well. “I think making sure kids know how to be healthy and strong is really important. I teach them about balance, and teamwork – and they’re really, really fun.”

“You’re alright, Rey with the nice garden,” Poe tells her cheerfully. He’s fidgeting with the flowers, though, and his expression doesn’t match his tone. He halts and says, “Here we are.”

Rey frowns, looking away from her flower thief and at their destination.

They’re not at a park at all. They’re at the graveyard.

“Poe?” Rey asks, sudden understanding rushing through her. “Your special lady, she’s –“

“You can still meet her,” Poe smiles at her, kindly, and Rey’s a jerk, she’s a big jerk poophead (and yeah, she’s been working on her cursing after she screamed a particularly creative one when a kid ran over her foot on one of those stupid plastic scooters).

Rey nods, and smiles at Poe. He walks in, and she follows him, noticing how tense his shoulders are. They walk through a few dozen rows of gravestones, and then he turns left, and walks, obviously knowing where to go by heart.

He stands still in front of a well-cared-for marker, and he holds the flowers out in front of him. Poe gestures at the stone with a nod of his head, and beckons Rey forward. She stands next to him, and reads the inscription on the stone.

_Shara Bey_

_1958-1996_

_Mother, Wife, Pilot_

_“But, Moon, and Star,_

_Though you’re very far—_

_There is one—farther than you”_

“I was ten,” Poe says, conversationally. When Rey looks over at him, his ears are burning red again. She definitely does not enjoy it this time. “But I loved her so much, you know? In that way that only kids can love.”

“I know,” Rey whispers. She bites her lip, and then slips her hand through Poe’s elbow. “What was she like?”

“She was the best pilot who ever lived, way better than me. Better than Han Solo, even. She was kind, and everyone loved her. She had a sarcastic streak a mile wide, and could kick my dad’s ass in everything. Shara could dance, and sing, and run marathons, and still have time to come home and make me my favorite foods. My mom could do anything,” Poe murmurs. He looks over and smiles at Rey, and she smiles back. “Well, except garden. She loved flowers, but she had the opposite of a green thumb.”

Rey laughs, and nods. She can’t do anything Shara Bey _could_ do, so it makes sense in a way that she can garden. Cosmic balance, and all that. Poe leans down slightly, not removing her hand from his arm, and sets the flowers in front of the gravestone.

“She loved larkspur, she saw fields of it when she was flying over Africa one time, and she said it settled in her heart. Dad always got it for her, but he’s been sick recently, so I’ve been visiting her by myself.” Rey’s heart aches for Poe, and she’s so, weirdly glad he chose her garden to steal from.

“You must miss her a lot,” Rey says, with nothing else to say. She doesn’t have a family; she can’t imagine losing someone like that. She never had anyone to lose.

“Definitely. But, my dad always told me when I’d get sad, that we borrowed my mom, that we were lucky to have had time with someone so perfect. He loved my mom so much. I could live my whole life with nothing in my possession but love like that, and I’d die happy.” His free hand has gone subconsciously to toy with a ring around his neck, silver and bright. Rey doesn’t ask about it; it doesn’t seem like the right time.

“Your parents both sound wonderful,” Rey says, softly, blinking away her own tears. She has no idea who her parents even were; they’d been so content to leave her behind.

“Yeah, I love them both a lot.” And Rey knows a lot of things about Poe Dameron: she knows he can justify flower theft for a good cause, she knows he favors his right leg, she knows he’s kind, and funny, and sweet, but she knows something else now.

She knows that she likes him an awful lot, for using the present tense when so many people wouldn’t.

They stand there for a few more minutes, Poe’s eyes closed, and then they turn and walk, hand in hand this time, towards the exit.

Rey squeezes his hand when they reach the sidewalk outside, expecting him to drop her hand like a hot potato, but Poe just turns and folds his other hand over hers. Rey shivers slightly at the comforting gesture; no one’s ever held her hand like this, like she was something precious.

“You can totally say no, and I’d understand,” Poe smiles at her. “But, my schedule’s fairly free the rest of the day.  I know I’m a thief, but I’d like to push my luck, and steal a little bit more of your time. Would you like to get coffee?”

Rey lifts their joined hands to her mouth and kisses his knuckles, greatly enjoying the intake of breath it inspires from her flower thief.

“Poe Dameron, it would be my genuine pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up this morning and felt like writing about flowers (Shrugs). Many more AUs where that came from, and I love collecting y'alls ideas!
> 
> P.S> I'd like to do a later one-shot that explores their 'budding' (get it) relationship, with a higher rating.


End file.
